Canopy of Branches
by Fortyfive stars
Summary: HHr drabble collection, from 100 words and up. Every chapter is an individual drabble, ranging from fluff to angst. Ratings vary and is stated in every chapter title. Randomly updated.
1. Canopy of Branches G

_Canopy of Branches  
__  
Wordcount: 100  
__Rating: G  
__Summary: How much would be destroyed if I wondered what it would be like to kiss you? A quiet HHr moment, stargazing.  
__Disclaimer: All the property of J.K Rowling. Although I've been told that legally this thing isn't worth rat's ass. Ah well!  
__A/N: Just a short drabble that I had on my mind. Am not quite pleased with how it turned out,  
because in my head it was so much better, but although I have tried I can't seem to change it.  
I will welcome any feedback as though it were my own child. ;)_

Hermione blinks again, closes her eyes experimentally. There can be no difference  
when the darkness behind her closed eyes is what greet her open ones.

_"What you thinking?"_ Harry asks drowsily, his voice a rumble against her back.

She leans in closer against his chest, drinking in his presence. Their shared warmth  
under the blanket is a tangible perfection in the september evening chill. Ghostlight  
of stars trickles through a canopy of leaves and night. They're impossibly alive,  
suspended together in this shared moment.

_"How much would be destroyed if I wondered what it would be like to kiss you?"_


	2. Wicked Witch of the West G

_Wicked Witch of the West_

_Wordcount: 150  
Rating: G  
A/N: Written for the recent challenge at HP Last Drabble Writer Standing at LiveJournal. (__http/community.livejournal/ldws/__) but never posted. The challenge was to include the line 'when everything's made to be broken' from the song Iris by Goo Goo Dolls._

Hermione tied off the glimmering silk headband with a flourish, then stepped back to critically view the result.

"I look like the wicked witch from the west," she said finally.

Harry grinned. "A little. But you're the cutest wicked witch I've seen." He only wished that they hadn't been forced to match -  
Hermione might not look good in green spangled dress robes but she had the excuse of being a girl. And _lovely_.

She twirled and his split-second decision to kiss her was overruled, though the monster inside him roared  
at the thought she might dance with someone else.

Then her high heels got caught in the flimsy fabric. It made a feeble sound before sagging as she tore a hole through it.

"Murphy's law," they said together, sharing a brief smile and she shrugged.

"When everything's made to be broken, needle and thread is a witch's best friend."


	3. Traintrapped PG

I'm sorry for the stupidness about to follow. XP

Unbeknownst to all save a precious few the Hogwarts Express did have a broomshed, although it  
really was more of a small, cramped shrub. Still, rows upon rows of slow but serviceable brooms were  
stacked (after being magically compressed to fit in) behind a small door that generally garnered no  
attention unless there was a pressing need for it. After all, it was only prudent to have a ready supply  
of brooms as means of an escape should anything happen.

Presently the lock rattled. There came a soft murmur of mingled voices drifting through the keyhole.

"It's too tight, Hermione, I think…"  
"Don't think! Just push harder, harry!"

A heavy thump as if someone was driven against the door repeatedly. The hinges keened, but held.

"We'd better stop—Hnn!"  
"Don't stop, it's so close, it's so..—"  
"Okay, that's it, I'm done."  
"Well, I'm not! So keep on going!"  
"Forget it, it's not going to work like this… I'm stuck! Ah!"  
„Stuck?! You can't be stuck in there!"  
"It's not like I meant to!"  
"You know what? We need some lubricant or something."  
"Ooh, I love it when you talk dirty."  
"Stop it! It's not funny! Harry Potter, I swear, if you don't get us out of here then this is the last time I  
am ever sneaking off for a snog with you. Ever!"  
"Hey, hey, at least you're not the one with his wand stuck in the keyhole."


	4. Toast in your honour G

It had all worked out for the best in the end, hadn't it? She was a woman of the most grounded, sensible sort. Somewhat narrow-minded, some people would say; extremely intelligent in most ways but not all, and the only thing one could mention - just in passing, just a quick, swift dagger in the dark - was that she was too cooped up in her belief that everything worth knowing was written down. Just that.

Yet she was sensible and she knew when to release a dream (far more farfetched and imaginative and hopeful than anyone would ever have credited her with harbouring) and settle for what she had instead of reaching for what she wanted.

Besides, she told herself sensibly as she woke early in the mornings and dressed in the january darkness and slipped on her sensible shoes and made sure she had brought the lunchbox, sometimes what you wanted was not what you actually _needed_. Then she would press a soft, tender kiss on his forehead, his red hair with cowlicks flopping all over the place, inhaling the unwashed morning scent of his body that wasn't disgusting, just earthy and familiar and sometimes off-putting but sometimes comforting and then she went to work.

Besides, she told herself desperately under the spray of the shower when the tears ran freely and she blamed it on a cold and the window misted over because she stayed in there for so long, if you loved someone you were supposed to set them free. She'd read that, somewhere, sometime a long time ago. Years later, he'd refer in passing to that long miserable winter (but he never knew that) and how many colds she had had, and she'd smile, agree, and say that luckily she hadn't had a cold for a very long time now. He'd be contentedly moving on to another topic by then, the children, or food or his job.

At the wedding - back when they were all so young and although by no means old now it seemed a vastly insurmountable long time ago - Ron held a speech and she held a speech and several others as well, and Ginny and Harry looked both embarrassed and yet pleased somehow to be the centre of so much attention. Ginny, her complexion pinked with pleasure and Harry's constantly uncooperating hair sticking out over his sheepish grin.

She'd raised her glass then, made a toast, a toast in their honour and felt the vague, tugging sense of loss as that future drifted away from her forever. And she forced herself to think, it had all worked out for the best in the end, hadn't it?


End file.
